


boy, you got my heart racing

by alykapedia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Blood and Injury, M/M, Spiderman AU, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 23:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16274408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: “You know, for someone who claims to not be Yuuri Katsuki, you sure do look a lot like him.”(Or: Five times Viktor strips Yuuri and one time Yuuri strips for him.)





	boy, you got my heart racing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pickletea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickletea/gifts).



> ok so this all started bc of the "into the spiderverse" trailer and pickle and i yelling about spider-gwen's costume AND HER POINTE SHOES!! which of course led to a very rambly chatlog about viktor and yuuri being ballet instructors and yuuri being a superhero on the side and somehow?? led to talk of weddings and butts
> 
> ANYWAY if the first two parts look familiar, it's bc i posted them a while back on twitter/tumblr HAHA. i tried to fit some of the details pickle and i hashed out but im tired and i was supposed to finish another fic but worked on this instead so UH yeah
> 
> gets a bit spicy towards the end. but like,,black pepper levels of spice (read: i use the word nipple) so be warned(?) i guess

1.

 

The first time it happens, Viktor could have honestly done without.

Because Spiderman—Yuuri, it’s Yuuri with the wide, brown eyes and the sweetest smile—is bleeding out in his bathtub and is pushing Viktor’s hands away every time he tries to get at the ugly cut on his side. Viktor is in a full-on panic and the only thing that’s keeping him grounded in reality is the first-aid kit perched precariously on the lip of the bathtub and what little he can remember from that Red Cross seminar on first-aid, and if he doesn’t get to help Yuuri who got hurt because of him, he’s going to have a complete breakdown, see if he doesn’t.

“Yuuri!” Viktor hisses, grabbing Yuuri’s wrists and _god, his wrists are so thin, what the hell is he doing swinging around on buildings?_ “Let me help you.”

Yuuri stiffens, freeing his hands from Viktor’s grasp before mumbling through the mask, “M’not Yuuri.”

“Fine. Okay. You’re not Yuuri, but you still have to let me help you,” Viktor says, using the voice he uses for his advanced ballet classes that always has the kids falling in line. “We need to get you out of the suit, can you—can you show me how to do that?”

A beat of silence follows his question, and for a breathless second, Viktor thinks that Yuuri’s lost consciousness with how he’d fallen limp, but Yuuri slowly, slowly turns on his side and waves at the nape of his neck.

“There’s zip at th’back.”

 

2.

 

“Psst, Viktor-sensei!”

After a year and a half of working at the local dance studio, you’d think that Viktor would’ve gotten used to voices coming from below his line of sight, but this is _not_ the case and he almost has a heart attack when an awfully familiar voice calls him in the middle of a dark corridor. As if this wasn’t terrifying enough, three pairs of small hands tug at the hem of his shirt, and Viktor lets out a tiny shriek as he looks down at—

—Axel, Lutz, and Loop.

“Girls,” Viktor manages, trying not to look as if he just got scared out of his mind by three six-year-olds, but from the unimpressed look that Axel—or maybe it’s Loop? Possibly Lutz?— is giving him, he fails spectacularly at that. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Yuuri-sensei needs your help!” One of the triplets quip as they begin to pull him along, leading him towards one of the changing rooms.

He pauses, shirt stretching out in front of him as the triplets continue to walk. “What? What happened?”

“It’s a secret! Just come on!”

Viktor figures that if the triplets know about it, then it probably isn’t related to Yuuri’s not-so-secret secret identity—honestly, _Viktor would know that ass anywhere_ —which is how he ends up in a cramped changing room, fumbling for the broken zipper at the back of Yuuri’s Swan Lake costume.

“You know,” Viktor starts as his fingernail finally catches on the broken zipper half, “With how often I’m undressing you, I should ask you out to dinner.”

 

3.

 

The very last thing that Viktor expects on a Saturday night is to be robbed. Or at the very least, have someone break into his apartment.

But he probably should have because it’s the perfect addition to what has been shaping up to be a pretty shitty week.

Grumbling under his breath, Viktor puts his book—a worn copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ because Viktor’s always been a sucker for period romances—down and reaches for the crowbar he’s stashed under his bed (under advisement from the brigade of babushkas in his apartment building), before creeping out of his bedroom. He’s just about to reach for his phone and make a quick call to the police station when a faint crash sounds from the kitchen, followed by Makka’s barking. And Viktor doesn’t even think, just starts running down the hallway, crowbar held aloft, ready to start swinging, because his would-be burglar has another thing coming if they even so much as look at Makka funny.

That is, until he takes in the sight of Yuuri—Spiderman, a small voice adds when he sees the familiar white costume and the blue pointe shoes—sitting crosslegged on his kitchen and cooing in Japanese at Makka. Viktor must make some kind of sound, because Yuuri is startling, the eyes on his mask going wide as he looks up at Viktor and then the crowbar in Viktor’s hands.

“What are you doing here?”

“Excuse me?” Viktor splutters when he finally unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, tone just at the edge of hysterical and he barely resists the urge to collapse onto a heap on the floor. “I’m pretty sure that’s _my_ line,” he says, putting the crowbar on the nearby counter before turning back to Yuuri with his hands on his hips.

“What are _you_ doing in _my_ apartment?” He demands, although now that he thinks about it, Yuuri was probably trying to avoid getting discovered by his family, which means that he trusts Viktor to either keep his identity secret or he thinks that Viktor’s apartment is a safe space, both of which are true. But before Viktor can twist himself up in knots at those implications, he turns his attention to the lurid pink slime that’s covering Yuuri and is now _dripping all over his floor_. “And what is _that_?”

“I thought—I thought you’d be out and I was sorta...planning on borrowing your shower?” Yuuri says, the eyes on the mask narrowing in a way that’s almost sheepish. “Just for a bit!” He adds, rising to his feet and Viktor can’t help the way his eyes track the way Yuuri’s muscles shift underneath the skin-tight spandex. “I would’ve cleaned up.”

Because Viktor’s definitely worried about the cleanliness of his bathroom. “Right.”

“And I’m not actually sure what this is either?” Yuuri continues, gesturing at the slime with a grimace. “Only that it’s sticky, and the sooner I can get it off of me, the better.”

And Viktor agrees wholeheartedly because his brain is going to places it shouldn’t the longer Yuuri is covered in the pink slime. “Come on, the bathroom is this way.”

They make their way to the bathroom in relative silence, the quiet occasionally broken by Makka’s whuffing as she follows after them. It’s only when he’s already pushing the door to the bathroom open that Viktor thinks back on Yuuri’s earlier comment.

“Why did you think I would be out?” He asks, stepping aside to let Yuuri walk inside.  

The eyes on Yuuri’s mask go wide again and Viktor has to bite down on a smile when he imagines how flustered Yuuri must look under it. “Well, it’s a Saturday night?” Yuuri begins, hands coming up to gesture vaguely at Viktor as he continues, “And you’re—”

“I’m what?”

It’s a testament to how familiar he’s become with Yuuri’s expressions and mannerisms--a result of entire afternoons spent gazing (read: mooning) at Yuuri from the adjacent classroom—that Viktor knows the exact face that Yuuri has to be making right now: cheeks flushed, eyebrows furrowed, pink lips twisted into an embarrassed grimace.

“Handsome,” Yuuri mumbles after a beat, toeing off the distinctive blue pointe shoes that had everyone in their tiny ballet studio clamoring to learn because _Spiderman wears pointe shoes, Viktor-sensei!_ “Attractive.”

And then Viktor’s face is burning with a decidedly unattractive blush when his mind catches up to Yuuri’s words, heart beating hummingbird fast inside his chest as he watches Yuuri step inside the bathtub. “Thank you,” he says, leaning back against the counter in an attempt to hide the fact that his knees just turned to jelly at the compliment. “But I don’t really have any plans for tonight.” Or any other night for that matter because Viktor has no game to speak of and the only person he really wants to ask out is never available for frivolous things like dates, too busy keeping everyone safe. “I was planning on asking my coworker out for dinner earlier, but I got cockblocked by the most annoying seven-year-old in the entire world, so…” Viktor trails off, earning himself a small yelp.

Viktor only has two other coworkers at the ballet studio, one of which is his boss, so there’s really only one person he can be pertaining to. And that person is currently trying to find purchase on the tiles while simultaneously trying to reach for the hidden zipper Viktor knows is on the back of the suit.

“Do you need help with that?” This won’t be the first, hell, it won’t even be the second time he’s helped Yuuri out of his costumes, and Viktor’s slowly but surely turning into an expert at it.

Yuuri pauses before looking at Viktor over his shoulder, the eyes on his mask narrowed in a way that has the hairs on the back of Viktor’s neck standing up.

“Only if you buy me dinner next time.”

 

4.

 

Another day, another monster, and Viktor once again has Spiderman— _Yuuri_ , because no matter how many times Yuuri denies it, Viktor knows that it’s him—bleeding in his bathtub. Again.

When he’d gotten his first-aid kit all those months ago, the worst that Viktor thought he would have to use it for is a scraped knee. Maybe a first-degree burn if he’s unlucky. He never once thought that he would be frantically pressing wads of gauze to Yuuri’s side, where a large wound bleeds sluggishly, staining everything—Yuuri’s suit, Viktor’s bathtub, Viktor’s hands—with blood.

“Aren’t you supposed to have--I don’t know--super healing or something?” Viktor asks, a breath away from hysteria as the gauze soaks up more blood. “You’re losing a lot of blood and I really, really think we need—”

“M’fine,” Yuuri wheezes, looking and sounding anything but, and he pushes ineffectively at Viktor’s hands, shifting so that he’s on his side. “Just--just help me take off my suit.”

 

5.

 

The mask falls away in his hands and Viktor grins before dissolving into delighted laughter, because— 

“You know, for someone who claims to _not_ be Yuuri Katsuki, you sure do look a lot like him.”

Yuuri blushes, and _oh_ , he’s beautiful and Viktor is ridiculously in love.

“Shut _up_.”

 

\+ 1

 

Minako is going to kill them if she catches them here.

Correction: Minako is going to kill Viktor for defiling her precious godson and studio.

But Viktor could honestly care less as Yuuri pulls away with a gasp, hips rolling sinuously, grinding down against him. He’s a vision in a frumpy sweater and stirrup tights, illuminated by the bright fluorescent lights high overhead. For once, Viktor only watches as Yuuri reaches for the hem of his sweater and slowly pulls it off and it’s easily the best striptease Viktor has ever witnessed.

And somehow, also the worst, because Yuuri is taking too long to roll down his tights and Viktor is but a man, and he’s reaching up to grab at them when Yuuri swats his hands away with a click of his tongue.

“Let me,” Yuuri says, a coy little smile playing on his lips as he drags a hand along his front, pausing momentarily to tweak a nipple. “It’s my turn,” he adds pointedly, making Viktor laugh again as he remembers all the times he’s had to strip Yuuri.

“Okay.” Leaning back against the mirror, Viktor makes a show of pressing his hands flat on the polished floor. “But hurry up.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: there was supposed to be a v dramatic love triangle between viktor, yuuri, and spiderman but pickle, in all her wisdom was like "viktor would immediately know that it's yuuri because of his ass"


End file.
